Numb
by bane the luchador
Summary: In all his eighteen years of life, Near never thought he would have to attend a funeral.


**Numb**

**Summary- **In all his eighteen years of life, Near never thought he would have to attend a funeral.

**Written By: Necury**

**Rated: K**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note, sadly enough. D8

**Genre: Angst**

**Warnings:** Spoilers if you don't know Mello and Matt's real names.

**Author's Note:** My first story about Near, Mello and Matt. Enjoy!

-

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the losses of-" Near blocked out the rest of the sentence, preferring to watch the dark gray sky instead.

The rain came down; not hard but not light, either. It just fell. Kind of like. . . He never contributed anything but never took anything either. Always just there. Never brash or cruel. So unlike-

Near sighed and turned his attention back to the robed priest. "-rest in peace." The old man said, finishing up his speech. The small group of people, dressed in black, who attended the melancholy event, stepped up to the two identical coffins, giving their last farewells. Near lagged behind the group, watching on as they dabbed at the tears flowing from their eyes and whispered their prayers.

Eventually, they started leaving, one by one, drying the last of their tears and heading off to the awaiting cars until he was the only one left.

The rain ran down his body, soaking his usual white shirt and pants. He'd refused to dress in black because it made things seem so. . . _final_. Ignoring the way his clothes stuck to him, he slowly made his way up to the intricate black caskets. He stood there for a moment, just staring. Nothing more, nothing less. He wondered how they would look in death. Would they be peaceful or would their expressions tell of suffering? He briefly toyed with the idea of lifting the lids and seeing for himself but decided against it. It would feel wrong. . . like he was disrespecting them somehow. He couldn't do that to them, never to them. Not when they'd finally found peace.

He didn't even know why he cared. It was not like he was close to them or anything. Quite the opposite. He might even go as far as to say that he _hated_ them, much like they hated him. Because they always did things together. It was always just the two of them, making Near feel like an outcast. Like he was not good enough to be in their presence.

And even in death, they went on together leaving Near by himself. Alone. Like always.

A sharp pang of emotion ran through his heart. Perhaps it loneliness. Perhaps it was jealousy.

Realising that he'd been spacing out, he shook his head slowly to clear his mind. Then he turned his attention back to the caskets and watched as raindrops bounced off the beautifully finished wood. Unthinkingly, he allowed the tips of his fingers to trail down the surface of both coffins. "Why?" He asked softly to no one in particular. "Why do you two always leave me behind?" Met with silence, Near backed away from the coffins and allowed the patiently waiting gravedigger to do his job. He watched as the man measured the size of one of the coffins and mapped out two separate holes on the ground. Picking up his shovel, the gravedigger began to dig.

Near stood there, watching the man work. When the first hole was nearly finished, before he could stop himself, he said quietly "Together. . ."

"Pardon?"

"Together. They would have preferred to be buried together." Near repeated.

The gravedigger stood up straight and took off his wet hat. "That ain't how we normally do things. . ." He trailed off when he noticed the way Near was staring at the coffins. He sighed and ran his hand over his face, leaving muddy water trailing down his skin. "Alright. I'll bury yer friends together."

Near's gaze moved to the man. "They aren't my friends."

The gravedigger blinked once, confused. Then he shrugged, picked up his shovel and began to dig again. The rain was still falling steadily as the large hole was completed and the gravedigger pulled himself out. He motioned to a couple of guys who'd been waiting around and they came over.

"S'ready." The gravedigger slurred tiredly, catching the eye of one of the men who was examining the hole with raised eyebrows. "They're bein' buried together." He explained to the man who nodded.

The group of men surrounded one of the coffins and began to carefully lower it into the wide hole. Near looked on silently, fingers playing with his dripping hair, as the men lowered the second casket into the other side of the hole.

Once that task was completed, the men bid them farewell and disappeared into the rainy night. The gravedigger picked up his shovel once again and began to fill in the hole. The sound of wet dirt hitting wood was all that could be heard until the gravedigger was satisfied with the outcome. He pulled a damp handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the mud from his face with it.

He then picked up his tools and walked over to where Near was standing. "Well, I'll be seein' ye'. I'm sorry fer yer loss." He said, placing a dirty, wet hand on Near's shoulder. Near nodded in acknowledgment and said nothing. The man smiled awkwardly, removed his hand from the boy's shoulder and made his way to the parking lot.

Near waited until he heard the telltale sounds of the car's engine before he slowly made his way over to the grave.

"I hate you guys so. . . so much." Near muttered, staring lifelessly down at the mound of dirt. "Just once, couldn't you. . . have included me? Just this once?" The pang in his heart was stronger this time and he realised it was jealousy. He was jealous of them for having each other. He was jealous that he'd never been able to make a single friend, due to his asocial nature. He was jealous of them because they were _never number one_.

He realised that he'd lived his whole life in vain. What was the point of being the best if you had no one to share your success with?

He started slightly when he noticed hot trails leaking down his cheeks. Was he crying? When was the last time he'd done that? He couldn't remember. Not that it mattered though. He was doing it now and he didn't like it. Did not like the feeling of utter despair that ripped at his soul. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not get the tears to stop.

Not caring if he permanently stained his white pants, Near dropped to his knees and slammed his fists into the muddy dirt. He let loose a frustrated cry, dragged his nails through the mud and then fisted his hands into his hair. "I hate you guys. . . I hate you for making me feel this way!"

He was secretly glad that no one was around to see him break like this. He _hated_ showing emotional weakness.

After a few moments of uncharacteristic hysterical crying and shouting, Near was finally able to re-obtain his composure. Shakily getting to his feet, he cast one final glance at the tombstones that sat innocently at the head of the grave. Unable to gather the energy to sneer like he wanted to, Near simply turned around and walked away.

Long after he left and long after the rain stopped, the first rays of the morning sun peaked over the horizon. A stray ray of light hit the two tombstones, causing the lingering droplets of water to shine luminously as they slid down over the engravings marked into the surface.

'_In loving memory of Mihael Keehl (1992-2013) and Mail Jeevas (1993-2013)'_

-

Okay, so it sucked. I know. Feel free to pelt me with random e-objects. :U

Review, if you'd be so kind. :)

-Necury


End file.
